PQ 2425 
.S3 E5 
Copy 1 



PQ 2425 
.S3 E5 
Copy 1 



THE SCHOLAR: 

A COMEDY, 
IN TWO ACTS. 



JOHN BALDWIN BUCKSTONE. 



PERFORMED AT 



THE THEATRE ROYAL, HAYMARKET. 



LONDON: 

WILLIAM STRANGE, PATERNOSTER ROW. 

1835. 



G. COWIE, PRINTER, 
13, NEWCASTLE STREET, STRAND. 






S afr 



ADVERTISEMENT. 



The Scholar is an adaptation of Scribe's u Le Savant." A 
critic in a Sunday paper, in his notice of the Scholar, was in 
extacies at the " fine eulog^m" on our " immortal bard." 4i A 
noble frankness,'' as he said, " on the part of the French 
Author/ 1 In Monsieur Scribe's Dr°ma, there is no such 
eulogium to be found ; and several other points, that Messieurs. 
the critics, declared themselves to be pleased with, do not 
belong to the French play. This statement is made that the 
reader may not suppose the present drama to be a literal 
translation. 



DRAMATIS PERSONS. 



Erasmus Bookwurm, the Scholar 
Hans Krackjaw, his Man - 
Mr. Wurtzburg - 
Doctor Keppelcranck 
Frederick - 



Mr. W, Farren. 
Mr. Buckstone. 
Mr. Strickland. 
Mr. Webster. 
Mr. Brindal. 



3Irs. Wurtzburg 
Helen 



Mrs. W.Clifford. 
Miss Taylor. 



This Comedy was first produced in July, 1835. 



COSTUME, 



Erasmus — First Dress — Dark cotton morning gown, white waist- 
coat, dark trousers, with Wellington boots pulled over the trouser, the 
collar of the shirt turned down and tied with a black ribband, brown 
chesnut wig, with full curls parted on the forehead, after the fashion 
of the German students. 

Second Dress — A long dark hrown coat bound with black velvet, 
large pockets at the side, pumps, and a travelling cap. 

Hans — Drab coat and waistcoat, black silk pantaloons, white 
stockings, and shoes, white cravat, light wig, combed formally and 
tied in a tail. 

Mr. Wurtzburg — Light brown body coat, white waistcoat, pepper 
and salt pantaloons, and hessian boots, powdered wig. 

Doctor Keppelcranck— -Large black coat, white waistcoat, black 
pantaloons, and hessian boots. 

Frederick — Austrian officers uniform. 

Mrs. Wurtzburg— Pink satin dress and white satin turban. 

Helen — White muslin frock trimmed with lace. 



THE SCHOLAR. 



ACT L— SCENE I. 

A Librar-y—Two tables, loaded with books and papers — a 
writing-desk o?i a table, in the centre of the stage, on which 
lies a manuscript — Maps are displayed against the walls — 
Busts of Goethe, Milton, and Shakespeare are seen — Several 
chairs — A door at the back — a door on the L. h. s. e. — At the 
rising of the curtain, a drum is heard in the street — Hans 
Krackjaw heard without — 
Hans. Pray go away before my master's return. (The 

drum ceases.) If you come here beating that drum, as you do, 

we must complain to the police. 

Enter Hans, l. h. d. 

Never heard such a noise in all my life. Master pays those 
street-musicians, on purpose to get rid of them, and now they 
come every day. iVe given them nothing this morning ; 
however, they have gone away now, and I can begin to think 
what I ought to do. Master told me to put his study a little in 
order, but I'm quite afraid to touch any thing. If I put a 
book out of its place, I do wrong ; if I disturb any of the 
sheets of paper that are lying about, I do wrong ; then how 
is it possible to put the room in order, if one must not touch a 
single thing in it ? The best way will be, to let it remain just 
as it is — 'twill be an inch thick in dust soon, but I can't help 
that. I did clean the busts yesterday ; and when master saw 
what I had done, how vexed he was, to be sure — told me I had 

B 



6 the scholar 

destroyed the fine natural shadowing bestowed by the hand of 
chance, and he would not have had a grain of that exquisite 
dust removed for any money. Exquisite dust ! Oh I oh ! oh ! 
— we scholars have strange fancies. (A knock heard, l. h. d.) 
Come in. 

Helen enters. 

Helen. Good morning, Hans. Is your master within ? 

Hans. No, miss. 

Helen. Is he better this morning? 

Hans. Yes, miss, thanks to your care of him. He has gone 
out for a walk. 

Helen. And has, no doubt, forgotten me — that is, he has 
forgotten its Thursday, the day that I always take my Latin 
lesson. Good morning, Hans. Tell him I am very, very happy 
to hear that he is so much better, though it is not polite to 
forget his pupil. 

Hans. Stay, miss — pray don't go — if he knows that you 
called, and wouldn't stay till he came home, he will be so 
cross. 

Helen. Then he is sometimes cross. 

Hayis. Only sometimes — when I disarrange his papers, or 
clean his busts — any thing else he never notices: he is always 
contemplating, and immersed in study, so never observes my 
little eccentric orbits. 

Helen. What extraordinary words you make use of, Hans? 

Hans. Yes, miss — my master being a scholar, of course his 
domestic ought to partake of a little of his learning — when 
he's reading, I sometimes peep over his shoulder, and get hold 
of a hard word or two, to help me when I talk to ladies — thus, 
you see, while I merely skim the surface of the ocean of 
literature, 1 leave it to my master to dive into its unfathomable 
depths, and to bring up the pearls and jewels that lie embedded 
in its bottom. 

Helen. Where did you first meet with your master? 



THE SCHOLAR. 7 

Hans. When I was deputy-beadle of the cathedral of Co- 
logne. I did hope, when the beadle died, to have succeeded 
him ; but I saw no hope of ever emerging from the deputyship ; 
and, to a man of mind, an occupation where one can see at a 
glance how high one can soar, and even the highest of that 
height being but a low position, comparatively speaking, one'? 
apt to turn one's back upon such a pursuit, and take to another 
where the summit of the ladder is in the clouds. 

Helen. Very true, Hans. 

Hans. So, when I gave up my deputyship, I was walking 
along the streets, thinking of what I should do, when I saw a 
gentleman reading—a runaway horse knocked him down — I 
flew to his assistance—he was not hurt — and, by my picking 
up his book before I helped him, attracted his attention. He 
asked what I was — I told him : he said if I should like to live 
in the service of a scholar, he could offer me a home — so I 
wiped the mud from his book and his coat, put his hat into 
shape, followed him to this house — into this room — and here 
have I been ever since. 

Helen. And you like your place ? 

Hans. I do — it suits my notions. Master may one day be- 
come famous— and the valet shares in the glory of his master. 

Helen, (sitting in a large chair at the centre table.) I dare say, 
Hans, that your master often sits here, thinking this quiet study 
Paradise itself. 

Hans. Not much like that, I should think, miss. This is a 
close, dusty r©om— that, as T have read, is a lovely spot. 

Helen. Ha, my dear Hans, where one is happy, that is Pa- 
radise. 

Hans. What a nice, what an angelic creature you are — I've 
been thinking if my master was ever to marry, you would be 
the identical 

Helen. Your master will never marry. 

Hans. Why not — he's not so old — scarcely forty — and a 



8 THE SCHOLAR. 

man's in his prime at that age — to be sure, study and want of 
exercise makes him look older than he is ; but, Lord bless me, 
when I'm forty, I shall think myself just emerging into life, ap- 
proaching my high time of discretion, and perfect vigour of 
existence. 

Helen. He's writing a book, containing arguments against 
matrimony — 

Hans. We often preach what we don't practise. 

Helen. He's a good kind soul. 

Hans. That he is — loves every body except the coppersmiths 
— the trunk-makers — the coffin-maker — the blacksmith — the 
saw-grinder — and the drums — those send him out of his mind 
— (Music. — Drum heard again without) — Ha ! there they are 
again. 

Erasmus heard without. 

Eras. Hans, shut the door, Hans — drive them away. 

Enter Erasmus Bookwurm, l. h. d. in haste, — a book in his 
hand, and dressed in a very slovenly manner — the drum 
ceases. 

Eras. Give them a shilling, and tell them to go. 

Hans. Lord, sir; you give them so much money they think 
you like it. 

Eras. Tell them I don't, and that I give it them to go 
away. 

Hans* Then they'll come every hour. 

Eras. Stop them, at any rate — or 1 shall go distracted. 

(Hans raws out l. h. d.) — Provoking, while spell-bound in the 
perusal of this fine old book — to be thus disturbed. What a 
splendid edition — black-letter — the date 1560 — how delight- 
fully the leaves are mildewed by time ; and its type, how 

magnificent! there are worm holes through every letter. 

(He regards the book with tenderness.) 

Helen. (Approaching him.) — Sir S 



THE SCHOLAft. 9 

Eras. Fine type ; I defy the whole university to decypher a 
single word. — (He puts down the book with great care, and .sits 
in a chair in the centre of the stage.) 

Helen. My dear master. 

Eras. Ha! my pupil, to whom I owe so much. 

Helen. Nay, sir — I am your debtor. 

Eras. For what, dear ? 

Helen. Do you not teach me French, and Latin, and 
Italian ? 

Eras. And when hours of anxious study threw me upon a 
bed of sickne?s, did not your kind attentions restore me to 
health ? the first day that I came down to ray study, I was 
in this chair — Hans had gone out — my physician had not 
arrived — not a soul was near me, and I fainted ; on recovering 
I beheld, as I thought, an angel by my side, anxiously attend- 
ing me, bathing my brows, and asking me with the sweetest 
voice in the world, if I was better — 'twas you, Helen. I 
thought I was no more, and was transported to the skies. 

Helen. You were not. 

Eras, But one of their bright inhabitants had descended 
to me. 

Helen. Yes — I sent for the doctor immediately. 

Eras. Ah ! poor Keppelcrank, he was here, too ; a good 
-man that — an old friend of mine — you sigh, my dear. 

Helen. I am so afraid that my calls upon you must distract 
your thoughts, and interrupt you, and I often think that the 
time you devote in teaching me, might be better employed on 
your great work. 

Eras. Nay, I delight in the task ; I find relaxation — enjoy- 
ment — a pleasure in it — it restores the tone of my thoughts 
like Goethe or Klopstock's fine poetry, and I feel better. 

Helen. Ah ! then I'll call every day — when I return firm 
the country. 

Eras. Are you going into the country ? 



10 THE SCHOLAR, 

Helen, This afternoon. 

Eras. What ! go into the country — neglect your studies ? 
Helen. "lis a yearly visit to a rich uncle and aunt — and 
one that I have made from childhood. 

Eras. My dear girl, you should not neglect your studies 
for rich uncles and aunts. Tis better to possess a cultivated 
mind, than be heiress to the Indies. 

Helen. "Very true ; but my mother's notions are very different, 
she cares little for study, and much for money ; but that is very 
pardonable, as all her property consists in this house in which 
you lodge ; and my uncle and aunt, having no children, have 
promised to provide for me, and I am now going to visit them 
for three months. 

Eras. Three months ! you'll lose all that you have acquired 
— your terminations, your verbs ; you'll never know how to 
conjugate. 

Helen. I think I shall know better than ever — for I am 
going to be married. 

Eras. To be married ! my dear girl, my child. Do you 
know that the great work I am now employed upon is a treatise 
on the evils of matrimony; it is to form eight volumes. I have 
not yet completed the first — I will lend you what I have done 
to read ; you shall have it in manuscript, in the hope that even 
the perusal of its early chapters, may turn your thoughts 
from that fatal act. Matrimony ! ugh ! I tremble at the 
word. 

Helen. Tis the wish of my uncle and aunt. 
Eras. Do you love your intended ? 
Helen. I have never seen him. 

Eras. Worse and worse. Here, child, here, you must take 
this manuscript with you — read it carefully — write marginal 
remarks, that I may answer them. 

Helen. I will; and now may I ask you one question with- 
out offending? 



THE SCHOLAR. 11 

Eras. Tis not in your power to offend me, my child. 

Helen. Are you rich? 

Eras. I really don't know ; upon my word, I never trouble 
myself on money matters— my friends relieve me of that care. 

Helen. Because, as some little return for the trouble you 
have Jbestowed upon me, 1 did intend to ask my uncle"s 
interest in obtaining you a rectory. I think your habits 

Eras. No ! no ! no ! my dear girl, do not trouble your uncle 
on my account ; 1 shall neither leave this house nor the habits 
I have contracted in it. I want no other employ than that I 
now possess ; my books — my manuscripts, are my existence 
— my life : and-all that can distract me from them would be a 
calamity. Here will I live and die — pen in hand — amidst my 
works, like an armed warrior on the battle field — a death not 
so glorious, perhaps, but far more useful. 

Helen. Do not talk of dying. 

Eras, Not while you continue my companion, pupil, friend. 
I have written a chapter on platonic affections — I wish you to 
read it — I thought of you in every line I wrote, and I felt in- 
spired. I think you will say it is written eloquently — perhaps 
equal to some things in Cicero's De Amicitia. By the bye, 
you shall take my Cicero with you — I have marked a passage 
to read to you — where is it? where is my Cicero? {looking 
among his books), where can that careless Hans have put it? I 
think it is in my bed-room — yes, I was reading there last night 
— -wait, wait — I'll get it you — (He runs into the room at back). 

Helen. His Cicero ! 1 usually see it on his table here (look- 
ing amongst the books, her eyes rest upon the manuscript that 
Erasmus had opened) — this is the mannscript that he is going 
to lend me. What is this? (reading) " The thirty-first incon- 
venience of a marriage state." Thirty-one inconveniences! 1 
never could have dreamt of there being half so many; (reading) 
" Twentieth argument against matrimony/' If there are twenty 
arguments against it in the first volume, how many will the 



J 2 THE SCHOLAR. 

whole work contain ? I'm quite alarmed. (A knock at the door.) 
Come in. 

Enter Doctor Keppelcranck. 

Doctor. Ha, Miss Helen, still an attentive pupil — still an- 
xious to improve, eh ? I wonder you are not weary of study. 

Helen. I find too much pleasure in my tasks, ever to feel 
weary; and when Mr. Erasmus relieves them, by reading Klop- 
stock, Goethe, and Shakespeare, I think I could listen to him 
for ever. 

Doctor. Hem! indeed ! where is Mr. Bookwurm ? 

Holen. Looking for his Cicero. 

Doctor. Indeed! so he leaves a young and pretty girl for 
Cicero ! a greater proof of his learning than gallantry. 

Helen. Adieu, Doctor, (Crosses to l. h.) Now you have 
called, I shall not remain here — I may be in the way. 

Doctor. Nay, nay ; you need not go on my account. Your 
society always cheers him — he has said so a hundred times. 

Helen. He prefers yours, Doctor. 

Doc. No, no ; when I have felt his pulse, and written his 
prescription, there is an end to all his interest in my company. 

Helen. I must leave you for a few moments — I am preparing 
for a visit to the country. Tell my kind friend that I shall 
contrive to see him before I go, and take his manuscript with 
me. Adieu, Doctor, adieu. (Exit Helen, l. h. d. 

Doctor. Nice little girl. If I were a single man, she should 
be the first that I should pop to 

Erasmus re-appears from the back, reading. 

Eras. " Solem e mundo tollere videntur ." Ah, ah ! beau- 
tiful ! beautiful ! " To deprive life of friendship, is to take the 
sun from the world." What fine Latinity — how pure — 

how beautiful. " Solem e mundo " Oh beautiful, beautiful. 

[The Doctor, without speaking to Erasmus, takes him by the 
hand in which he holds the book, and feels his pulse. 



THE SCHOLAR. 13 

Erasmus, without observing the Doctor, takes the book 
into his other hand. 

Doctor. Villainous ! villainous ! 

Eras. (Turning round with indignation) What's villainous ? 
Cicero — the divine Cicero— villainous ! 

Doctor. No, no — your pulse. 

Eras. Ah, doctor, is it you ? 

Doctor. Yes, and fortunate for you that it is. 

Eras. What's the matter ? 

Doctor. You are in a high state of fever ; and, if you do 
not attend to me, you'll die— you'll destroy yourself and me 
also. 

Eras. You! 

Doctor. You'll destroy my reputation, and that is a doctor's 
existence. I attend you — you die — the world of course will 
say I killed you, when the true assassin will, be your habits — 
your sedentary pursuits. You shall leave this house — -I've 
said it — I've told the landlady to put a bill to let the rooms ; 
and to-day, whether you like it or not, you shall obey my 
orders; you must take air— exercise— you must have excite- 
ment. 

Eras. Doctor 

Doctor. Silence — I am your old friend — your family's old 
friend — I have physicked them all, and buried them half— you 
are the only one left. 

Eras. True. 

Doctor. The death of your last brother gives you the title 
of Count Mullendorf; you must quit your studies and enter 
the world. The family estate is now your own, and the once 
retired and learned Erasmus Bookwurm must become a gay 
nobleman — a man of pleasure. 

Eras. Renounce my books— my habits — do violence to my 
disposition — abjure my sweet companions — my thoughts — to 
be what ? a glittering fool. I shan't. 



14 THE SCHOLAR. 

Doclor. You'll turn miser, I suppose. 

Eras. No, I'll spend my money in books — I'll give prizes to 
the universities — I'll discover starving talent, encourage it, 
foster it— the artist shall look upon me as a friend, the scholar 
as a brother, and the world as a benefactor. 

Doctor. Bravo ! a very good beginning. 

Eras. Have you sent to Daniel Stop ? 

Doctor. The ten thousand florins 1 

Eras. Yes. 

Doctor. I have. 

Eras. Dear old fellow, he was my first Latin master — he 
taught me to decline musa, the muse. Wasn't he surprised 
to hear from me ? 

Doctor, No. 

Eras. No ! 

Doctor. He was dead. 

Eras. Dead! — Poor old Stop — how he used to thump me, 
bless his old fist. 

Doctor. He has left a son unprovided for. 

Eras. You should have given him the money. 

Doctor. I have. 

Eras That's right. (He sits at the desk, and eagerly peruses 
his manuscript J 

Doctor. There ! you are at that murderous study again. You'll 
die. 

Eras. I wo'nt. 

Doctor. You will. I now give you over — only one course 
can save you — you must buy a large house — receive company — 
give balls 

Eras. Balls ! I give balls ! • 

Doctor. You must dance. (Doctor capers.) 

Eras. Do you wish me to bow and grin, and jump in the air 
like a fool ? Doctor, did you ever thrust your fingers in your 
ears when in a ball-room ? Did you ever shut out the 



THE SCHOLAR. 15 

sound of the music, and only look upon the dull forms of 
the dancers, hopping and popping about ? — I have. Fools, 
doctor — all fools — lost time, doctor. If people are not to be 
misers with their money, they should be with their time — life 
is comprized of moments. 

Doctor. True! 

Eras. And I have none to spare, while my great work re- 
mains unfinished. 

Doctor. How much have you written ? 

Eras. A few lines will finish the first volume — that will be 
done to-day. 

Doctor. And the whole work. 

Eras. Will be in eight. 

Doctor. You will complete it in 

Eras. Two years. 

Doctor. Then it will remain unfinished. 

Eras. Eh! 

Doctor. You'll die in one. 

Eras. Die in one year ! and my book 

Doctor. Must be. left to the care of some other scholar to 
breathe his last over. 

Eras. That must not be — it shall not be — I must live to 
complete my work. Doctor, pray contrive to let me live 
two years. 

Doctor. Then rigidly adhere to my prescriptions. 

Eras. Name them — name any thing — that may enable me 
to finish my eight volumes on the inconveniences of marriage, 
and I am your slave. 

Doctor. Then, by Galen and Hippocrates, there is but one 
way to escape; but one loop-hole through which to creep from 
certain death. 

Eras. Well, what is it ? 

Doctor. You must get married ! 

Eras. Married ! 



16 THE SCHOLAR. 

Doctor. Married. 

Eras. Take a wife ! 

Doctor. Take a wife. 

Eras. In the face of my great work— in opposition to my 
eight volumes — practically refute my own arguments— 

Doctor. Consider, what a knowledge of matrimonial miseries 
you will acquire by being yourself a married man : besides, 
you will be regarded as having sacrificed your own happiness, 
in order to be able to prove your theory. 

Eras. True ! 

Doctor. They will say, had he never married, he could not 
have described his inconveniences with such truth ; and you 
will be looked upon 

Eras. As a martyr ! — Doctor, you're right. The great 
painter of old stabbed a man in his studio that he might pour- 
tray his dying agonies— I will surpass that painter— I will 
immolate myself, that I may truly describe my torments. 

(Crosses (olr. 

Doctor. Think of an ill-tempered wife. 

Eras. Delicious! 

Doctor. Screaming children. 

Eras. Sublime! 

Doctor. Hungry relatives. 

Eras. Beautiful ! 

Doctor. Domestic broils. 

Eras. Animating ! 

Doctor. And battles ! 

Eras. Exciting ! 

Doctor. Tears, reproaches, tyranny, and slavery! 

Eras Delightful ! — I'll endure all for the sake of my fel- 
low-creatures. (They embrace.) 

Doctor. That's right — now your life is saved. 

Eras. Doctor, I must be relieved from all the trouble of 
courtship — I never could whisper soft things in a woman's ear 



THE SCHOLAR. \7 

in my life. You must undertake all the ogling, and sighing, 
and protesting: in short, the whole matter must be arranged 
for me up to the very moment of going to church — it's quite 
enough for me to be married. 

Doctor, The first woman that T think suitable to you you 
will accept. 

Eras. Yes, (Crosses to l. h .) 

Doctor. Adieu, my friend. — I'm now going to call on all my 
acquaintances to make my selection. 

Eras. That's right — get me some horrid woman that will 
torment me every hour — 'twill be a pity to sacrifice any poor 
young creature that may look for affection and attention, for 
that I cannot give — I've no time. 

Doctor. If I bring you a wife in half an hour, you'll marry 
her. 

Eras. Yes, 1*11 take her — I'll take her — as I would one of 
your prescriptions : the draught may be nauseous, but down it 
must go. Adieu. While you are absent, I will finish my first 
volume. 

Doctor. Now for my voyage of discovery. 

[Exit Doctor, l. h. d. 

Eras. So — I'm to be married in an hour. Well, be it so. 
Don't you frown at me, my dear old friends (Regarding his 
books J — I shall never forsake you. When T am here, I am 
surrounded by the souls of living and departed genius — And 
can the society of a wife wean me from you? — Oh, no, no — 
I submit to the torment, as a holy monk endures his penance, 
that I may become worthy of admission to your high places — 
(Knock .)— Who's there ? 

Enter Hans, l. h. d. 

Hans. A juvenile young person requests an audience. 
Eras. I can't see him — I'm busy. 

Hans. Not being aware of that circumstance, I permitted 
c 



J& THE SCHOLAR. 

him to follow me up stairs, and the consequence is — that he's 
here. 

Enter Frederick, l. h.d. 

Eras, Who's there ? 

Hans. This military young' warrior. 

Fred. Pray do not let me disturb you, sir — your servant 
misunderstood me — I did not wish to speak with you. 

Hans. Oh, youVe come to stare at my master — then you 
had better take a seat, and commence your ocular demon- 
stration. 

Fred. These apartments, I perceive, are to let — I merely 
wished to look at them. 

Eras. To let! 

Hans. Yes, sir — the Doctor ordered a notification to that 
effect to be displayed in the windows. 

Fred. As I do not take the rooms furnished, of course you 
will remove your books — as T am no scholar, they will be of 
little service to me. 

Eras. No scholar! — Poor young man. 

Hans, (aside. J Ignoramus. 

Fred. I know little of science — 

Eras Barbarian ! N 

Hans. Gothic vandal. (Aside.) 

Fred. Though I had a father who was master of it. I, sir, 
am a soldier in the regiment of the Archduke Charles — 
about to be married to an heiress — and while the preliminaries 
are proceeding, I am anxious to remain ia this house. 

Eras. Well, sir — I am also going to be married, and I am 
anxious to remain in this house. 

Fred. The rooms are to let, sir. 

Eras. You must speak to the Doctor — I know nothing about 
it : all I can say is, that these rooms are mine— these books 
are mine — that servant is mine — and I do not intend to part 
with either. Now, go — I am occupied, and do not wish to be 
disturbed. 



THE SCHOLAR. 19 

Bans. Now, sir, I am waiting to introduce you to the street- 
door of the domus. 

Fred. I must speak to the lady of the house. 

[Frederick, in turning to depart, knocks over a table of 
books — among them is a very large one — papers fall out 
of it — Erasmus starts up. 
Eras. Goth I you have knocked down my Tacitus — my 
Tacitus, with all the annotations. (He stoops to pick up the 
£ook.) You should be more careful, sir. — Don't touch them. 
Fred. I am very sorry, sir. 

Enter Doctor Kepplecranck l. h. d. 

Doctor. It's done- — it's settled — all is arranged. 

Eras. All is disarranged — all my Roman Emperors knocked 
down by this clumsy German — my notes all out of order — 
'twill take me a month to put them right again. 

Doctor. You will have plenty of leisure for that after your 
wedding. — (Erasmus crosses to l. a. and pick up books.) 

Hans. Wedding! 

Doctor. Your master is going to be married immediately. 

Hans. Master going to be united in wedlock, after all his 
arguments — impossible ! 

Doctor. (To Erasmus.) — I have just parted with the uncle 
of the girl, my proposal in your behalf was immediately 
accepted, and he wishes to see you. 

Eras. (Arranging the loose papers in his book.) — I must first 
put my Tacitus in order. 

Doctor. Then be quick. 

Eras. ShaVt be longer than three weeks. 

Doctor. You must leave it as it is. The family of your bride 
expect you to dinner to-day, at their country house. 

Eras. I won't leave my first volume unfinished, and my an- 
notations disarranged. 

Doctor. Mr. Wurtzburg expects us at three. 



20 THE SCHOLAR, 

Fred. Mr. Wurtzburg, the counsellor ? 

Doctor. The same, sir. 

Fred. Is that gentleman going to marry one of his nieces? 

Doctor. His niece, sir! he has but one. 

Fred. He's going to marry Counsellor Wurtzburg's niece ! 
Tell me, sir ! 

Doctor. (To Erasmus, who is writing.) — Dress yourself, sir, 
you have no time to lose. 

Eras. ShaVt stir till I have finished the volume. Hans, I 
shall leave this manuscript on my desk, deliver it to my pupil. 

Doctor. Hans, look out your master's best apparel, 

Hans. Come with me, Doctor, and I will show you all that 
he has. 

Doctor. Quick, my lad, quick. — (The Doctor and Hans go 
off at the back. J 

Fred. I was impatient to be alone with you, sir. 

Eras. And I am impatient to be quite alone, sir. 

Fred. You are going to me married, I hear. 

Eras. Yes, sir, at ray Doctor's request. 

Fred. To Mr. Wurtzburg's niece. 

Eras. I do not know who 1 am to be married to — it's 
nothing to me — the doctor has settled all that. 

Fred. I advise you, sir, to pause ere you rush into matri- 
mony. 

Eras. (Starting up.) — Eh! have you any arguments to ad- 
vance against the state ? sit down, my dear friend, and let me 
hear them — (he thrusts Frederick into a chair, draws another 
and sits close by him) — now state them, and I will take notes. 

Fred. I have no arguments to advance— merely facts. 

Eras. I like facts better — state them. 

Fred. I myself, sir, love the lady to whom it appears you 
are about to be married ; her aunt has given her consent to 
my addressing her; and believe me, sir, I shall not lose the 
object of my affections without a terrible struggle. 



THE SCHOLAR. 21 

Eras. iVe nothing at all to do with it, if you want to argue 
your right to the lady, you must talk to the Doctor. 

Fred. I have every reason to believe, sir, that the lady is 
not indifferent to me. 

Eras. So much the better — I shall gain an argument by my 
position. 

Fred. (Rising) — There is my card — (throwing a card on 
the table) — and if you persist in your intentions, we must meet 
again. 

Eras. With all my heart, sir. 

Fred. I shall look in to-morrow, with a friend. 

Eras Very well, sir. 

Fred. You may choose your own weapons. 

Eras. Weapons ! 

Fred. We must fight. 

Eras. We — no, no — you must fight the Doctor ; I've nothing 
at all to do with it ; the Doctor's your man — the hopes, 
fears, pains, and perils of courtship he has undertaken to bear. 
I have nothing to do with them — I am to be married by con- 
tract — fight the doctor. 

Fred. I shall look in upon you to-morrow, sir. 

[Exit Frederick l. h. d. 

Eras. Hum ! the troubles of matrimony are commencing 
even before I have tied the fatal knot. Another argument for 
a book — a fine one — 'twill do for the end of the volume. — 
(He walks about ; Hans enters with clothes, hat, shoes, fyc, he 
follows Erasmus. ) — " If your wife has had a prior attachment, 
in all probability, she will cherish a lingering love for its 
object, which every little disagreement between you will but 
serve to increase ; and almost every wife has had a prior affec- 
tion. What man can safely say he was a woman's first love I 
Ergo, beware of marrying a woman who has had a prior en- 
gagement. " Ha! ha! this will end my first volume 
excellently, what thousands my book will save from misery. — 



22 THE SCHOLAR. 

1 shall be called the anti-matrimonial philanthropist — no man, 

after reading my book, will lay out his (Turns and sees 

Hans.) 

Hans. Clothes, to be married in 

Eras. Ha! true! 

Enter the Doctor from the back. 
Doctor. Come, come, my friend, not dressed yet, we shall 
be too late. 

Eras. I have been detained by a young man — he's coming 
again to fight you — there's his card. — (Giving the card to the 
Doctor.) 

Doctor. Frederick Stop ! 

Eras. What ! surely he is not the son of my old master. 
Doctor. No doubt of it — and has called to thank you for the 
ten thousand florins. 

Eras. (At his desk, writing.) — No, no — he called to fight — 
you are to go out instead of me. 
Doctor. Nonsense — dress, dress. 
Eras. I will finish my first volume. 

Doctor. Hans, dress your master. — (Erasmus continues 
writing ; Hans goes behind him, and takes off' his coat ; Eras- 
mus rises in anger ; the Doctor thrusts him back into the chair ; 
Erasmus places his manuscript on the back of Hans and writes 
rapidly; the Doctor ties on his cravat; Erasmus writes in 
another position ; Hans puts on his hat ; the Doctor stoops to 
arrange Erasmus' buckles ; he writes on the Doctor's back , 
and in every position during their dressing him, in which his 
hand is at liberty. ) 

Eras. Stop — don't — I've an idea — no man — should ever 
marry after certain age — excellent — I can't write fast enough 
for my flow of thought — I'm near the close — near the last 
word — I have it. Huzza ! its done — my first volume is com- 
plete. Hans, put on my coat. — (Hans puts on his coat.) — Take 






THE SCHOLAR. 23 

this to my pupil, Hans — tell her to read it during her visit in 
the country. Now, Doctor, I'm ready — (going) — stay, let me 
have one last look at my Tacitus. 

Doctor. No, no. 

Eras. I will look at my notes. 

Doctor. We shall be too late. 

Eras, Just one page. 

Doctor. Come, come. — {urging him.) 

Eras. I must — I will. — {He hastily opens the Tacitus ; the 
drums are again heard beating loudly iu the streets.) 

Hans. The drums are come again. 

Eras. {Stopping his ears) — Away then, away — to matri- 
mony — to destruction — rather than hear that noise — (Eras- 
mus rushes out l. h. d.) 

Doctor. {Following.) — Huzza ! Victory ! [Exit l. h. d 

Hans. {Flourishing the manuscript.) — Master will be mar- 
ried at last, in spite of his book. 



END OF ACT I. 



24 THE SCHOLAR. 



ACT II.— SCENE I. 

A Saloon in the Country-house of Mr. Wurtzburg. — Large 
book-case on the l. h. u. e. — Shelves, with books, R. H. — Fold- 
ing-doors at the back, opening to a garden — A Table, on which 
are several books, in the centre — Tables, chairs, §c. — Pens 
and ink on table. 

Enter Mr. and Mrs. Wurtzburg from back. 

Wurtz. Madam, I will not consent. 

Mrs. W. I never met with such an obstinate man — you de- 
light in refusing the slightest favor. 

Wurtz. I tell you plainly, and resolutely, that my niece 
shall not marry the young fellow that you have selected for 
her — that Mr. what's his name I 

Mrs. W. Frederick Stop — why should you object to him i 
I'm sure he's a charming young man. An officer in the regi- 
ment of the Archduke Charles too — and one of the most 
dashing and sprightly youths that has lately come under my 
observation. 

Wurtz. Sprightly! — Who ever heard of German sprightli- 
ness ! Though I am ignorant of what it may be composed, I 
have a perfect knowledge of its weight, for your Frederick 
Stop, in stopping with you the other night, thought proper to 
stop on my toes. 

Mrs. W. You had no business near us when we were per- 
forming the Vienna galopade. 

Wurtz. And what business had the wife of an Aulic coun- 
sellor to be dancing the galopade with a young lieutenant. 
Don't you know, madam, that such follies may disgrace me 
with the minister. 

Mrs. W. Disgrace you ! — If it were not for your wives, 
some of you politicians would make but sorry figures. 



THE SCHOLAR. 25 

Wurtz. Don't be insolent, madam — I have come to a con- 
clusion — Mr. Frederick Stop does not marry my niece. 

Mrs. W. Besides his pay — already possesses ten thousand 
florins. 

Wurtz. Pooh ! — where did he get them ? 

Mrs. W. How should I know? He has them, and which 
his solicitor can testify. 

Wurtz. The truth is, madam, I have already promised my 
niece to a man of title. 

Mrs. W. Of title ! 

Wurtz. To the wealthy Count Mullendorf, who will take 
my niece without a stiver. 

Mrs. W. Indeed. Then you intend to sacrifice the poor 
girl's happiness at the shrine of your parsimony. 

Wurtz. No, no — I wish to promote the poor girl's hap- 
piness ; and if I can accomplish it without any supplies being 
required on my part, you ought to be the last person to offer 
any objection. Besides, my being allied to a count of the 
empire will add to my consequence as counsellor — the minister 
will like it. 

Mrs. W. The minister! 

Wurtz. The count is also a scholar, madam— his erudition 
will also assist my views. 

Mrs. W. Your views ! 

Wurtz. You know, madam, that I am a member of the 
Bibliographic Society of Vienna and Berlin, correspondent to 
the Paris Institute, and a diffuser of useful knowledge. 

Mrs. W. A confuser of useful knowledge. You forget that 
the poor girl may love Captain Frederick, and you would marry 
her to an old man. 

Wurtz. Not forty. 

Mrs. W. A ridiculous man. 

Wurtz. His income is one hundred thousand florins per 
annum. 



26 THE SCHOLAR. 

Mrs. W. A miser. 

Wurtz. Hold your tongue — here comes my niece. 

Mrs. W. Abide by her decision. 

Wurtz. Agreed. 

Enter Helen, r.h., a manuscript in her hand. 

Mrs. W. Helen, my dear, come hither — bless me, how red 
the poor girl's eyes are — you have been weeping. 

Helen. No, aunt — I have been reading. 

Mrs. W. Some affecting book, I suppose. 

Wurtz. Or the Minister's last speech on opening the Budget. 

Helen. Neither — a manuscript that has been lent to me by 
a friend. 

Wurtz. Nonsense, my dear. Never waste time in reading 
manuscripts — nothing is worth perusal till it arrives at the 
dignity of print. What would our speeches at the assembly 
be if they were first seen in manuscript ? 

Mrs. W. Listen to me, my dear. At the ball that you went 
to, when you were last here, you observed a young man, who 
fixed his eyes upon you all the evening — you must recolleet 
him — he made a very great impression upon you. 

Helen. O yes, aunt, I do remember — what was his name ? 

Mrs. W. Frederick Stop. 

Helen. True — I recollect the person — Heigho I (Sighs.) 

Mrs. W. (aside to WurtzJ Sighs at hearing his name— a 
sure sign of love. 

Wurtz. I think not, my dear — I always sigh when I hear 
your's. 

Mrs. W. Brute ! You danced together. (To Helen. j 

Helen. I did not particularly observe him. 

Wurtz. Mrs. W. you must not examine the poor girl in such 
a diplomatic manner — allow me to state the case clearly. 
Should this young gentleman propose to marry you, my dear, 
what would vou do ? 



THE SCHOLAR. 27 

Helen. I should refuse him. 

Wurtz. Ha, ha — she votes with my party. 

Mrs. W. My dear child, you are very silly. 

Wurtz. Silence, my dear — no debate can be allowed after 
the question is settled by a majority. That young man was 
your aunt's choice — now / have one to propose — a man of 
fortune — of title — in short, Count Mullendorf. 

Helen. I must refuse him. 

Mrs. W. Of course she prefers my young man. 

Wurtz. She prefers the Count. (Both cross to centre.) 

Helen. Belive me, my dear uncle and aunt, I am interested 
in 

Mrs. W. } 

or * \ Whom? 

Wurtz . \ 

Helen. Neither the young man nor the count. 

Wurtz. Then in whom do you possess an interest ? 

Helen. In no one — I do not wish to be married. 

Mrs. W. Not wish to be married ! — the girl's a fool ! 

Wurtz. Singular being- — why these anti-connubial notions ? 

Helen. You will laugh at me, uncle, when I tell you — but 
this manuscript, which has been sent to me by a friend, con- 
tains so many powerful arguments against matrimony — so 
many precedents of misery in that state, that I assure you I 
have no wish at present to encounter its chances and changes 
- — I wish you would read the work. 

Wurtz. What is it called ? 

Helen. " The inconvenience and danger of matrimony." f Pre- 
senting the manuscript, which Wurtzburg takes from her hand, 
and throws with contempt upon the table ) 

Wurtz. My dear girl, I am sufficiently acquainted with the 
subject already — no book upon it, however eloquent, can elu- 
cidate more than I already know. 

Mrs. W. Then be grateful for your knowledge, sir. and ap- 
preciate it. 



28 THE SCHOLAR, 

Wurtz. Order, order. My dear niece, you have seen your 
aunt's choice — 

Helen. I have. 

Wurtz. But you have not seen mine. 

Helen. I have not. 

Wurtz. Will you oblige me by giving him your ear ? 

Helen. My what ? 

Wurtz. An interview. 

Helen. 'Tis useless, uncle — I shall never marry him. 

Wurtz. If you dislike the man, believe me, I shall not urge 
the matter. 

Helen. That's a dear uncle. 

Mrs. W. She'll not marry your fine Count, believe me. — 
come my love, you must not be influenced by this paltry manu- 
script; Mr. Stop will soon be here, and a few tender protesta- 
tions from him will refute all the silly arguments advanced by 
the silly author of that sillier book. A man to write against 
the aristocracy of matrimony ! the demagogue ought to be 
decapitated for high treason. [Exit with Helen r. h. 

Wurtz. I have more trouble in governing my wife than the 
minister has in ruling the whole cabinet. Ah ! here is my 
friend, the doctor — to-day, he is to introduce me to the count— 
what the deuce shall I say to him? I was not prepared for the 
opposition of my niece. 

Enter Doctor Kepplecranck from the back, leading on Erasmus. 

Wurtz. My dear doctor, I'm glad to see you. 

Doctor. (Holding Erasmus by the hand, as if about to intro- 
duce him.) — My friend and I have made all possible haste.— 
{ Erasmus has discovered the library or book-case at the back ; 
he snatches his hand away from the Doctor's, and is employed 
in examining the contents of the case.) 

Wurtz. Where is your friend ? 

Doctor. Allow me to introduce him. — {Turns round.) — 






THE SCHOLAR. 29 

where is he? — I held him by the hand by this moment — (Sees 
Erasmus.) — Ah, there he is amongst the books (Goes to him.) 
Count Mullendorf, allow me to present you to your uncle-in- 
law, Mr. Wurtzburg, whom you have been so impatient to see. 
Rush into his arms. (Aside to Erasmus. 

Eros, (Crossing to Mr. W.^ but looking at a book which he 
holds in his hands J An old edition of the German Troubadours. 
— My dear sir, I'm delighted to see you — I'm enchanted. 

Wurtz. (bowing profoundly) Believe me, count, I am equally 
happy in possessing your acquaintance. As for my wife, she — 

Eras. Is two hundred years old at least. 

Wurtz. Sir — my wife — two hundred years old I 

Eras. No, no — this book. 

Wurtz. Oh ! 

Eras. I suppose, by your possessing so valuable a relic, that 
you are bibliopolist — if so, I shall respect you the more. 

Wurtz. Your respect, count, I shall always be proud to ac- 
knowledge — our friend, the Doctor, has informed me of your 
wish for an alliance with my niece. 

Doctor, (crosses) The count is delighted at your acceptance 
of his proposal, and anxiously awaits the moment in which I 
am to throw myself at the lady's feet. 

Wurtz. You! 

Doctor. The lady is to be wooed by proxy. 

Wurtz. The count had much better press his suit in propria 
persona. 

Eras. You seem to have a fine collection of books, sir. 

Wurtz, I am a member of the Society at Berlin. 

Eras. Ah !— Delightful ! 

Wurtz. Quorem pars magna fui. 

Eras. Virgil. Give me your hand — you are more thau my 
un de — you are my brother. Doctor, you're right — marriage 
will save my life. 

Wurtz. (Goes to a book-case and takes out half a dozen hoy' 1 

D 



30 THE SCHOLAR, 

volumes, which he places on the table) Here are some very scarce 
editions, count. 

Eras. Ah ! — may I look ? 

Wurtz. Certainly. 

Eras, {examining the books) A fine Terence ! — Plautus ! — a 
Petronius ! Magnificent ! fine taste — fine type — 

Wurtz. Printed by Robert Estienne. 

Eras. Tis the original edition. At page 66 there are two 
typographical errors. 

Wurtz. There are. 

Eras. Oh, my uncle, my brother. (Taking the hands of 
Wurtzburg with joy.) Doctor, doctor, you are right — matri- 
mony will save my life. 

Wurtz. But when you see my niece, you will exclaim — 

Eras. (Taking a large old folio from table) What old work 
is this ? 

Wurtz. You will exclaim, as you gaze upon her youthful 
charms— 

Eras. 'Tis what I have longed for these twenty years. (Re- 
garding the folio.) 

Wurtz. What, sir, my niece ? 

Eras. No, no — this book. 

Wurtz. That — "tis the first edition— 

Eras. Of English Shakespeare ! — Ha ! ha ! ah ! ah ! (Placing 
it on the table with care.) 

Doctor. What wretched binding. 

Eras, (to the Doctor, with ineffable disdain) [Goth ! — May 
I touch ? (To Wurtzburg.) 

Wurtz. Yes, yes. 

Eras, (taking up the book) May I open ? 

Wurtz. Certainly. 

Eras. It is Shakespeare ! 

Wurtz. A genuine copy. 

Eras. Indeed. (Opening and gazing on it) Oh, venerable 



THE SCHOLAR. 31 

work! Dull clods that ye are, are you not moved as you be- 
hold this ancient type ? — as ye behold these grandsire letters — 
the ancestors of that noble family whose progeny now fills all 
Europe ? Here are the first printed words of the master mind 
— words from which thousands of copies have been made, and 
will be made, to the end of time. Look, look — gaze on them 
as I do — in delight — in wonder ! (Turning over the leaves.) 
Ariel! Caliban! Hamlet! Lear! Othello! Falstaff !— ah, 
Falstaff! fat Jack!— Ha! ha! ha! (Solemnly)— Macbeth ! 
Caesar ! Brutus ! — the noble Romans ! — Shylock ! Rosalind ! 
Touchstone ! Benedick ! Beatrice ! — Ah ! ah ! ah ! — I'll write 
a Dictionary, doctor — I will — I'll write a Dictionary — amongst 
the new words shall be placed Shakespeare, and that word 
shall signify nature, poetry, and truth. {Crosses to r. h.) 

Wurtz. As you value the book so much, my friend, it shall 
be yours. I present it to you as my wedding present. 

Eras. Doctor, hold the book. ( The Doctor takes the book 
from Erasmus.) Doctor, you're right — matrimony will save my 
life. That I should have an uncle with such books — such edi- 
tions — Oh, I'm a happy man. 

Wurtz. You have not yet seen the lady. 

Eras. The Doctor will see her — all that I have to do is to 
marry her. 

Wurtz. Tis somewhat necessary that the lady should con- 
sent to have you. 

Eras. I've nothing to do with that — that is the Doctor's 
business. (Erasmus seats himself at the table, absorbed in pe- 
rusing the folio.) 

Doctor. Let the young lady see my friend the Count, I will 
answer for the result. 

Wurtz. Indeed. 

Doctor. All that you have to do is to prepare the contract 
for signature, and the young lady for her fate: as for myself, I 



32 THE SCHOLAR. 

have a call to make on a patient or two in this neighbourhood, 
and shall not return until dinner-time. 

Wurtz. 1 cannot leave the Count alone. 

Doctor. You don't leave him alone — he is in better company 
than either you or I can be to him — leave him with your 
books, and he'll neither care for uncle, aunt, friends, nor bride. 
Do as I command you, and all will be right. Adieu till dinner. 
I am going to attend to my patients — you look to yours. 

[Eocit the Doctor at the back, Wurtzburg r. h. 

Eras, (at the table) This is delightful — that my uncle should 
be a bibliopolist— a collector ! (In removing the folio, his eyes 
rest upon his own manuscript, thrown on the table by Wurtz- 
burg) Eh ! what's this ?— 'tis my own writing ! By the bones 
of Friar Bacon, 'tis my first volume. How came it here ? — 
That fellow Hans has not delivered it to my pupil — a careless 
lout. {He turns over the leaves and reads) Is it possible? — my 
arguments against marriage are certainly very striking — what's 
this? {Reading) "If we experience such difficulty in securing 
our own happiness, how greatly must the difficulty be increased 
by striving to procure it for a dozen perhaps, for who can limit 
the number of his children ?" True. " Continue a bachelor, 
your life is your own ; take a wife, it belongs to your family — 
then do you not forfeit your independence in marrying V s True 
again. " If you are a man of letters, you will shrink from the 
mere details of housekeeping : how could you bear to have an 
inspired moment annihilated by — ' My dear, what will you 
have for dinner ?' or the angry voice of your wife scolding the 
servants — or the screams of children — and they always scream 
whenever they can — think of your nightly rest being disturbed 
during the progress of dentition." True, true. {Walking 
about in great agitation) I did not think I had argued so 
powerfully — its appalling. (Reading again) "Parties! balls! 
intrigues!" — An intrigue — I'm frightened — I begin to shrink 
from my fate. 



THE SCHOLAR. 33 

Enter Hans, mysteriously, from the back. 

Hans, Master ! 

Eras. Oh ! (starting) Who's there I 

Hans. Your confidential domestic. 

Eras. Oh— 

Hans. Tin very uneasy in my mind. 

Eras. At what ? 

Hans. I was reposing in the garden a few minutes since, 
when two persons came and sat in an arbour near my position 
— they commenced a conversation — the voice of one was that 
of your aunt-in-law in perspective — of the other, that of the 
young man who wanted to hire our apartment this morn- 
ing 

Eras. Well. 

Hans. They talked of one Count Mullendorf ; this I knew 
to be you, though till this morning I was ignorant of the 
fact 

Eras. Go on. 

Hans. 1 heard the young man say that he loved the lady, 
that you are to marry, to distraction 

Eras. Indeed ! 

Hans. And the aunt said that she, the aunt, hated you, and 
she abused you. said that her niece would never marry you — 
and the young officer talked about his happiness being de- 
stroyed for ever, and became quite suicidical. 

Eras. Say no more — I'll renounce it all— I cannot consent 
to save my own life at the expense of another's happiness — the 
Doctor must look out for some one else. I'll write to the 
young man and the aunt, resigning all pretensions to the lady. 
— (He sits at the table and writes.) 

Hans. How disinterested. 

Eras, (writing) — Hans, were you ever married \ 

Hans. Once, 

Eras. You were, eh! had your wife a gallant ( 



34 THE SCHOLAR. 

Hans. She'd two. 

Eras. How ! I must make a note of this for my second 
volume. 

Hans. The sexton and the grave-digger, and I did think 
she had some thoughts of the undertaker. 

Eras. Dreadful ! Were I to marry, might not this young 
man be my wife's sexton, grave-digger, and undertaker in 
one? 

Hans. Decidedly he might. 

Eras. Deliver these letters — one to the aunt, the other to the 
young man. I shall not marry this niece. 

HaJis. Nor at all if 1 were you, sir ; matrimony is a thorny 
and a devious path, which if one is once impelled into, one 
knows not into what ditches and quagmires one may fall ; at 
all events it is a very long lane with only one turning. 

[Exit Hans with the letters. 

Eras. He's right — Hans is right — he must assist me in my 
second volume. I'll take notes of the hints I have already 
received from him. — [Sits at the table and writes, with his back 
to the r. h. 

Helen enters r. h. ; she starts back on seeing Erasmus. 

Helen. Who's this ? it must be the man they wish me to 
marry ; my uncle said he was here — he's writing — surely that 
form is familiar to me — it is, as I live, its my master, Mr. 
Bookwurm ; he cannot be my intended husband. No, no, 'tis 
a count that I am to marry. The Doctor has brought Mr. B. 
here, no doubt. I'll speak to him. — (Helen advances gently 
to him, and taps him on the shoulder.) 

Eras. Eh ! ha ! what ? Helen, you here — you — what, are 
you — are you the — Eh ! eh! 

Helen. This is my uncle's house. 

Eras. (Taking her hand.) — My dear, dear pupil. 

Helen. How glad I am to see you ; you have just arrived in 



THE SCHOLAR. 35 

time to assist me with your friendly counsel. I told you this 
morning that I was going to be married. 

Eras. You did. 

Helen. I have since made up my mind not to marry. 

Eras. Ha! you have read my book — good girl — good girl. 

Helen. Besides, I could never love the man that they Irish 
me to marry ; my aunt says that he is the most disagreeable 
uncouth creature that ever breathed. 

Eras. Jf you can't love him, don't have him. 

Helen, He is rich. 

Eras. But don't have him. 

Helen. And though he has a title 

Eras. Don't have him. 

Helen. And is called Count Mullendorf. 

Eras. Eh ! — (Starting but checking himself.) — Count Mul- 
lendorf is he? 

Helen. Do you know him ? 

Eras. Yes, yes — do you ? 

Helen I do not. 

Eras And you hate the poor count without knowing him I 

Helen. I may not hate him, but I do not want to marrv 
him; especially since I have read your book. 

Eras. True, true — but an author can, if he pleases, suddenly 
turn round, and as strongly argue in favour of that, which he 
may have previously contended as strongly against. 

Helen. Then where are we to find truth ? 

Eras. You sigh — I'm quite as much worried as you are — 
they want to marry me. 

Helen. Surely you will not consent. 

Eras. I don't know — a thought has sudden lv struck me 
that though marriage has its bad side, it also has its good side 
— so that he who argues against it is not wrong-, and he who 
contends for it is as decidedly right. 

Helen. It may be the foundation of all blessin 



36 THE SCHOLAR. 

Eras, Or the source of all evils. 

Helen. Then we should make our choice carefully. 

Eras. True — what would you advise me to do ? 

Helen. I cannot advise you — I can but picture the wife that 
I think would make you happy. 

Eras. Sketch her — by all means sketch her. 

Helen. She should be gentle, pretty, not too learned, for 
you men are very jealous of your advantages, though she must 
possess sufficient knowledge to make her comprehend and ad- 
mire your talent. 

Eras. True. 

Helen. She must not trouble you with vapid details of her 
housekeeping. V> 

Eras. True. 

Helen. And one who, without wishing to follow you into 
the high regions of science, can be interested in your pursuits, 
anxiously watch for your success, and delightedly share in 
your glory. 

Eras. I should love her — I should love her. 

Helen. In a word, one who well knowing the goodness of 
your heart, would care little for the singularity of your man- 
ners, would love you, and strive daily to be all that you wish. 

Eras. I should doat upon her — T should live but in her 
presence — but where is she to be found? such a woman is not 
in the wide world. 

Helen. There is one. 

Eras. Where? 

Helen. She is intended for the Count Mullendorf. 

Eras. Ha ! then know my dearest pupil — my — (aside) — 
I'll tell her all and fold her to my heart. — {He turns with open 
arms towards Helen ; when Frederick joyfully enters^ and is 
received in the embraces of Erasmus.) 

Eras. Who's this ? what's this ? 

Fred. My friend — my best friend — how shall I thank you ? 






THE SCHOLAR. 3/ 

Eras. For what, sir? for what ? 

Fred, For your kind letter. 

Eras. Bless me — (aside) — I have resigned her — Hush — 
(crosses to Helen) — I must talk to you, Helen, my dear ; go 
to your uncle — he will explain all — in the mean time tell him 
to get the marriage contract ready. 

Helen. A contract for what? 

Fred. Dear madam — I am indebted to that gentleman for 
all my happiness — 1 was going to fight him, but he has proved 
my best friend. 

Helen. What does it mean ? 

Eras. Go to your uncle. 

Helen. Tell me, sir. 
•Fred. Go to your aunt. 

Eras. (Aside.) — Go to your uncle. 

Fred. To your aunt. 

Eras. Adieu. 

Fred. Adieu, dearest, 

Helen. (Rushing off r, h.) — I'm bewildered. 

Fred. How shall I ever return this kindness — to think you 
should resign her to me. 

Eras, (confused.) — My dear, sir — I — I — 

Fred. Had 1 not received your letter, signed by your own 
hand, 1 could not have believed it. 

Eras. My dear friend, when I wrote that letter to you, I had 
not seen the lady. 

Fred. But that is of little consequence. 

Eras. 1 beg leave to differ — and to end all disputes, young 
man, you can't have that lady — she loves me — me. 

Fred. You ! 

Eras. I have received the declaration from her own lips — 
now let me appeal to your own generosity: you are young, 
well-looking, and a soldier — I am odd, angular, and ordinary 
— you will every day find dozens of women to love you — I 



38 THE SCHOLAR. 

may live a thousand years and never again discover one with 
the slightest affection for me — therefore, pray release me 
from my promise. 

Fred. Nay, sir, I cannot. 

Eras. I marry, sir, by order of my doctor — my life, my 
reason demands it. 

Fred. I love the lady, sir, and will not resign her. 

Eras. I can but echo your words, sir. 

Fred. Then we must fight, sir. 

Eras. I won't — I will not resign Helen, because it is oppo- 
sing our mutual happiness; and I won't fight, because it is 
against my principles. 

Fred. Then, sir, I will brand you as a coward — I shall 
never hear your name in society, but I shall speak of you 
with contempt — nay, 1 will go further, I will declare to the 
world that every man of learning, every scholar, nay, the 
whole university, are curs and cowards — they may read, but 
they won't fight. 

Eras, Young man, dare you insult the university? dare you 
insult the whole mass of intellect ? This is beyond endu- 
rance. 

Fred. Then, sir, name your weapon. 

Eras. What you please. 

Fred. Pistols. 

Eras. Yes — there is merely a trigger to pull. 

Fred. In half an hour, by the river side. 

Eras. I shall be there. 

Fred. Your second? * 

Eras. My doctor. 

Fred. You're very prudent. 

Eras. Now, sir — leave the house — I shall be there. 

Fred. And I shall be there, sir. [Exit Frederick at back. 

Eras. To attack the university — insult the whole body — my 
blood rushes to my heart — it boils in my veins — I feel as im- 



THE SCHOLAR. 39 

petuous as when I was eighteen ! The Doctor was right — I 
wanted excitement — I now have it. A marriage and a duel — 
and I will fight, pro aris et focis, for the learned, for my wife, 
for my children. But stop — IVe no children yet — aud, if I 
am killed, I shall have no wife — and my great work will be 
unfinished. But, courage — I must not have such thoughts. 
Til sit down calmly, make my will, and put my worldly affairs 
in order. (He sits at the table and writes.) 

Enter Hans at back. 

Hans. I have delivered your two letters, sir — that to the 
young officer I gave with my own hands. 

Eras, (writing) I know it. 

Hans. Mrs. Wurtzburg had gone out to walk, but her letter 
will be delivered most punctually as soon as she returns from 
locomotion. 

Eras, (writing) Very well. 

Hans. Allow me to inform you, sir, that the culinary ar- 
rangements of the kitchen are in a state of forwardness, and 
that dinner will be on table at five o'clock. 

Eras. I shall first take a turn by the river side. 

Hans. Do, sir — it will promote your carniverousness. 

Eras. Get me some pistols. 

Hans. Pistols! 

Eras. Pistols. 

Hans. To walk with ! 

Eras. Get them. 

Hans. Where shall I find them, sir ? 

Eras. I saw some in the counsellor's gallery. 

Hans. Wonderful man ! — He's now going to begin some 
dissertation on ancient fire-arms and engines of destruciion. 

[Exit Hans r. h. 

Eras, (folding a sheet of paper) I will leave this on the 
table, directed to Helen — then, should I fall, 1 shall die in 
peace. 



40 THE SCHOLAR. 

Re-enter Hans, with two enormous pistols. 

Hans, Here are two famous ones, sir. 

Eras, {rising and taking the pistols) Tis well. {Puts them 
in his pocket) When the Doctor comes, tell him I want him by 
the water side. 

Hans. Yes, sir. You'll have plenty of time for your walk ; 
'tis but four now. 

Eras. Then Til take some books to amuse me — what are 
these ? (Taking up books) (i The campaigns of Gustavus Adol- 
phlls. ,, — The very thing. (Hans brings forward several books 
from the case — Erasmus takes them up, opens, reads them, and 
puts them in his pockets) " The Wars of the Hussites and the 
Anabaptists" — very good — " The Siege of Jerusalem"'' — ex- 
cellent — " The origin of Fire-arms" — highly necessary — " a 
dissertation on Duelling 1 ' — indispensible ! Hins, remain you 
here, and send the Doctor to me the moment he arrives. Now 
to revenge this insult on the learned. 

[Exit at the back, loaded with books. 

Hans. Master certainly looks like a walking book-case. 

Helen and Mr. Wurtzburg enter r. h. 

Helen. What do you tell me, uncle ? Mr. Erasmus is the 
count. 

Wurtz. He is. Do you now consent to marry him ? 

Helen. Yes, uncle, I do. 

Wurtz. Excellent girl. (Seeing Hans.) Where is your 
master ? 

Hans, Gone to peregrinate. 

Wurtz. Where ? 

Hans. By the margin of the translucent water. 

Wurtz. By his request, I have prepared the contract — when 
will he return ? 

Hans. At the usual hour of mastication. 

Wurtz, I but require his signature, and then all will be 
settled. 



THE SCHOLAR. 41 

Hans. 8hall I take the paper to him, sir. After he has pe- 
rused all the books he has carried with him, that document may 
amuse him, if he is not too much absorbed in his pistols. 

Helen. Pistols! 

Hans. Yes — he's preparing an argumentation on heteroge- 
neous combustibles. 

Wurtz. Take him this, sir {giving Hans the contract) — and 
tell him to peruse it carefully. 

Hans. Your commands shall be most explicitly and most 

indubitably obeyed. [Exit c. door. 

Wurtz, My dear niece, your ready acquiescence delights me. 

The wealth of the Count will not only enable you to live in 

splendour, but enhance my influence with the minister. 

Helen. Oh, sir, 'tis not his wealth 1 heed ; 'tis his kind 
heart — his noble qualities — 

Wurtz. Which are all very well to possess, in addition to 
fortune. Now, had you married my wife's proteg6 — that mi- 
serably poor Mr. Stop — 

Enter Mrs. Wurtzburg, with an open letter in her hand, from 
the back, followed by Frederick and the Doctor. 

Mrs. W. Mr. W. — Mr. W. — my point is carried. I have 
just received a letter from the count, in which he states, that 
events have occurred at the last moment that induce him to 
forego all claims to my niece's hand. 

Helen. Resigns me ? 

Wurtz. Nonsense, Mrs. W. 

Fred. Events at the last moment ! (Aside to Mrs. W.) The 
scholar is frightened — he won't fight. 

Doctor. What ! — breaks off the match after all the trouble 
I have taken — foolish man — now he'll die — Til give him over. 

Helen, (aside.) Then T am indeed unhappy! 

Doctor. But where is my patient? Let him explain — let 
him speak — where is he ? 

E 



42 THE SCHOLAR, 

Wurtz. Gone to peregrinate, by the river's margin, with 
pistols and books. 

Fred. Pistols ! — then he is waiting for me — I must hasten 
to him — follow me, Doctor. 

Doctor. Why, sir ? 

Fred. I am going to fight the Count — I insulted him — he 
named yon as his second. 

Doctor. Crosses to Fred.) I beg to be excused — my duty is 
to preserve his life, not to assist in depriving him of it. And 
you, sir — can you — dare you beeome his assassin ! — you, to 
whom he has behaved so nobly. 

Fred. Nobly! 

Doctor. Yes, sir. The Count never trumpets his benefac- 
tions to the world, but conceals being the author of good 
actions even from those on whom he bestows them. You are 
worth ten thousand florins. 

Fred. I am, sir. 

Doctor. You received them from your late father's lawyer. 

Fred. I did, sir. 

Doctor. The Count sent them to you— you are the son of 
his old Latin master — he heard that you were left unprovided 
for, and in secret he befriended you. Can you now murder 
your benefactor? 

Fred. How can I return his kindness? — how can I acknow- 
ledge 

Doctor. Fly to him — fall upon your knees, and ask the good 
man's pardon. (Hans appears at the back, pale and affrighted, 
He comes down L. h. c, carrying a hat, pistols, and books. 

Hans. O my poor master — my poor master. 

Doctor, He's drowned. 

All. Drowned! 

Hans. In a paroxysm of despair, he has precipitated himself 
into the aquary. 

Helen. Good heavens! (She is falling, but is sustained by 

Mrs. WtJRTZBURG.) 



THE SCHOLAR. 43 

Doctor. Be calm — 'tis not possible. 

Hans. It is possible, because it is a fact. I went to seek 
him — I saw a group of people speaking of a man who had 
fallen into the water — I approached — what did I see? — My 
master's hat — these pistols and books. 

Wurtz. (at the table) What is this? — a paper directed to my 
niece. 

Helen, (taking it) Forme ! it is his writing. (Opens it with 
great agitation) Oh 'tis too true — he is no more — this is his 
will — I cannot read. (She drops the paper — -falls on the shoulder 
of Mrs. Wurtzburg. The Doctor takes it up and reads ) 

Doctor. " I bequeath to my beloved Helen all I possess, ex- 
cept forty thousand florins, which I give the man who has 
urged me to this extremity, in token of my forgiveness. M 

All. Dear, excellent creature — good man. 

Hans. Worthy Homo. (Helen is supported by Mrs. 
Wurtzburg, with her face to the back of the stage — she 
utters a shriek — the group separate, and discover Erasmus 
at the back, buttoned to the throat in a morning-gown, and 
attentively reading a book. The Doctor runs toward him, and 
drags him forward.) 

Hans. Master. 

Helen. My friend. 

Wurtz. My nephew. 

Fred, (on his knee) My benefactor. 

Doctor, (embracing him) My patient ? 

Eras, (coolly) What's the matter ? what has happened ? 

Helen. We heard that you were drowned. 

Eras. But I am not. Absorbed in meditation, 1 suddenly 
found myself in the river, but, Leander like, 1 swam to the 
opposite side — no one saw me — I gained your house by the 
garden — borrowed your morning-gown, and here I am. (Seeing 
Frederick) Young sir, you are not a man of honour — you 
have kept me waiting. Come, sir, I'll forth again — your in- 
solence must and shall be chastised. 



44 THE. SCHOLAR, 

Fred. Oh, sir, forgive me — 1 knew not that you were my 
secret friend — I apologize for all that I have uttered — and, as, 
I see that Helen really loves you, I resign all pretensions to 
her, and throw myself on yuur kind and generous feeling. 

Eras, (to Mrs. Wurtzburg) Madam, have I conquered your 
dislike to me ? 

Mrs. W. Oh yes, sir — your generosity has subdued me. 

Eras. And you, my Helen — my pupil — do you still detest 
this Count Mullendorf ? 

Helen. My dear friend and master, you already know my 
thoughts. 

Doctor. Huzza — my patient's life is saved. 

Eras. Yes, Doctor, thanks to your prescription. {Taking the 
hand of Helen.) 

Hans. Master's a perfect anomalical paradox. 

Eras, And now, in the teeth of his great work, Erasmus 
Bookwurm commences his journey on the new and strange* 
road of matrimony. — {To the audience) And if you will cheer 
me at this, the commencement of my perilous route, 'twill give 
me courage to support the many dangers I may encounter ; but 
should they be few — should my gentle wife make my married 
state one of happiness and confidence, and thus nobly refute - 
my arguments, then, in the words of Shakespeare, I will pro- 
mise that 

" Deeper than did plummet ever sound 
I'll drown my book." 



THE END. 



G.Cowie, Printer, 13, Newcastle Street, Strand, 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

^ if hi 

7QO rx 



021 1 00 7 ^ 



LIBRARY OF CONGF 



021 100 799 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



021 100 799 f 



